Somewhere between work and rest, between cities and selves, there’s a kind of space that rarely gets formalised. It’s where ideas are still fragile, where friendships are not yet named, and where creative people try to make sense of what they’re building and why. Egyptian creative collective Shams Club’s upcoming retreat in Palm Springs, taking place from May 31st to June 3rd, is an attempt to hold exactly that space, deliberately and without overstatement, with subtle contributions from a selection of Arab brands woven into the experience.

Co-founded by Yasmine Rasool of Egyptian community-led platform Waastaa and Lena Khouri of UAE-based storytelling platform Between East, Shams Club has grown into a global community for Arab creatives and entrepreneurs who—more often than not—exist in multiple places at once; geographically, mentally, culturally, and even professionally. It’s a community shaped by movement and the constant negotiation of identity that comes with it. “We wanted people with the same cultural background to come together and connect,” Rasool tells SceneTraveller.For years, Rasool and Khouri had been operating in parallel, each building networks across different parts of the world before realising they were solving the same problem from opposite sides. Bringing their two scopes together—the Arab world and its diaspora—became the foundation of Shams Club, a shared ecosystem that built on the understanding that creative communities grow strongest when they are allowed to form on their own terms. That ethos extends to brands like BEHAVE, ARAME, KOTN, and Nazuk Beauty, who are similarly rethinking everyday products through the Arab lens and also have their own seat at the retreat table. “People are always looking to make new friends, connections, and network. We provide them with a calm space to do just that,” Rasool explains.

Shams Club’s Mexico City retreat earlier this year was the first time that idea—of housing creatives under one roof, if only for a few days—was tested in person. The experience started with each creative planning their year ahead, setting goals and intentions to work towards and live by. These individual plans were then discussed in intimate circles, encouraging creative collaborations between like-minded entrepreneurs, and creating a sense of excitement for building their brands. And with Mexico City being a tropical, bucket-list destination, Shams Club made sure to make room for nights out and gastronomical exploration. “It was such a success that we were like, okay, let’s do more. So Palm Springs is our next destination, and then possibly Greece,” Rasool says. the retreat in Mexico offered proof of appetite, that people are willing to show up and invest in each other in ways that extend beyond the timeframe of the retreat itself.Palm Springs, or more specifically Joshua Tree, offers a different kind of setting, one that forces you to move at a far more leisurely pace than you’re used to. “We wanted a place that felt removed enough from the day-to-day to create this environment where everyone can slow down, think clearly, and be present with each other.” There’s a certain stillness to the desert that quietly reshapes how time is spent; without the usual distractions, conversations stretch, pauses feel less urgent, and ideas are given the room they’re usually denied. And with thoughtful touches sprinkled throughout the experience—from skincare by Adipeau to pantry staples like Ya Albi olive oil—that sense of care and familiarity is quietly reinforced.

The structure of the retreat itself follows that same logic. Mornings begin quietly, with wellness sessions led by Anousha of UAE-based creative collective Joy Culture, before gradually moving into the more demanding parts of the day. “We’ve strategically sandwiched the work with the play,” a pace that Rasool has come to rely on herself, after years of trial and error. “If you don’t take care of yourself, you can’t do anything business-wise,” she says, a statement that—though obvious on the surface—feels painstakingly learned through experience.From there, the days open up into hands-on workshops, one-on-one peer sessions, pitching and brand strategy exercises, and group conversations that are deliberately small in scale. “In a bigger setting like a summit, you sometimes run the risk of being talked at,” Rasool explains. “Whereas with the retreat, you’re sitting down, hearing everyone speak, and are actively engaging. It really fosters meaningful relationships.” That closeness allows for a different kind of exchange, one where conversations are complemented by talks with figures that paved a way in the industry, including contributors from YouTube MENA who offer insight into building and monetising content more effectively. Afterwards, open portfolio sessions ask each creative to present their work to the group. By that point, the dynamic has already shifted, “you’re bouncing ideas off of each other,” she says, “and even figuring out how others’ brands could directly or indirectly help you in what you’re making.”

For those building a brand of their own, particularly in isolation, that continuity matters. “It’s one thing to say you want to create something and another thing to actually do it.” The retreat attempts to close that gap, not just through conversation, but through structure. Each participant leaves with a 30, 60, and 90-day plan, alongside follow-ups designed to ensure that whatever bloomed there doesn’t just remain suspended in intention. Still, not everything is measurable. Some of what people leave with is less concrete, though no less necessary. “We want guests to leave with a sense of satisfaction, a sense of community, and a sense of calm that everything is going to work out.”

There are, inevitably, the details that make the experience feel complete. The private chef meals, the desert light that lingers longer than expected, the particular stillness of the landscape. They sit quietly in the background, never demanding attention but shaping the atmosphere in ways that could only be fully understood in retrospect.For those hesitating to fill out an application—which closes on May 15th—weighing whether it’s the right time or the right place, Rasool’s answer is disarmingly simple: “If you believe in what you’re creating, there’s literally nothing you can lose from being here. It’s a chance to feel supported and inspired.”

And perhaps that’s the real appeal. Not the promise of an unrealistic transformation, but the opportunity to step into a space where dreams feel possible again, if only because you’re surrounded by people who are asking themselves the same questions, building towards their own versions of an answer, and willing to let you do the same.